


i've tasted blood and it is sweet

by blenderfullasarcasm



Series: Spooktober [6]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Accidental Demon Summoning, Crack Treated Seriously, Don't copy to another site, Gen, How Do I Tag, Possibly a crack fic, Spooktober, They/Them Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), crowley has no idea what's going on, dark shadow is learning japanese as his second language, neither does dark shadow, no beta we die on the hill of poor decisions, small amount of blood, tokoyami bakes a cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blenderfullasarcasm/pseuds/blenderfullasarcasm
Summary: Dark Shadow watches as his host does something funky with some weird, like, plant-looking things (?) and some bowls and the unborn. He has literally no idea how all that stuff somehow manages to become the tasty not-bread later, but he thinks it’s pretty cool.-----Spooktober Day 6 (Sacrificing Ritual)





	i've tasted blood and it is sweet

**Author's Note:**

> tw: tokoyami accidentally cuts his finger

Dark Shadow watches as his host does something funky with some weird, like, plant-looking things (?) and some bowls and the unborn. He has literally no idea how all that stuff somehow manages to become the tasty not-bread later, but he thinks it’s pretty cool.

It’s the second sweet not-bread they’re making tonight - the other one is on a metal rack thing on a table - and it’s maybe three in the morning…? Dark Shadow has no use for time because that’s just for _ mortals _ so he doesn’t actually know, but it’s pretty dark outside. If his host would just leave the well-lit eating room, Dark Shadow could roam free, howl at the moon or whatever he wanted.

But if his host leaves the eating room, Dark Shadow won’t get any sweet not-bread.

So.

In the eating room they stay, even though it’s really too bright for both of them. His host keeps his seeing-orbs pointed down at the bowl - eyes, that’s what they’re called, why can he never remember that? - and he’s mumbling something in not-Japanese-not-Shadow-speak under his breath as he pours the nasty tasting chemically thing - soda, maybe? No, that’s not right - into a tiny spoon then into a bigger bowl with the plant stuff.

It seems like it would be way more efficient to just, like...dump it directly in the bowl? But the last time he tried doing that his host got all pissy and then there was no sweet not-bread, so Dark Shadow isn’t going to mention it again.

His host lifts one of the not-earmuffs off his ear-hole and lets the weird almost-music in not-Japanese-not-Shadow-speak leak out. “Shadow, what flavor do you want?”

Dark Shadow considers this for a long moment. The white not-bread had been better than the yellow, which had been better than the green; the red had been better than all of those, but the best had to be…

“Brown,” Dark Shadow decides. He wants brown not-bread today.

His host sighs. “Chocolate?” he asks, resigned.

Dark Shadow would roll his, uh..._ eyes_, that’s right, if he had any, like, petals or anything. No, wait, that wasn’t right. The things in the middle of human eyes, the tiny black dots that got smaller whenever Dark Shadow got closer to them. Those. But he doesn’t, so he just says, _ “Duh.” _

“Who taught you that? Was it Kaminari?”

Dark Shadow has no idea what a kaminari is. Wait, unless it’s that squid thing. No - that wasn’t the direction this conversation was going, so probably not.

Ooh.

He could probably go for some squid-thing right now, though.

But, no, wait, sweet not-bread comes first on his list of priorities.

When Dark Shadow doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his host just does the thing where he breathes in slow and then pushes the air out through his smell-holes. Then he puts his I-can’t-hear-anything-not-earmuffs back on and Dark Shadow would pout a little if he were physically capable of it, because he _ always _ has interesting things to say. But the important part is that his host takes out the shiny bag from one of the wall-boxes and dumps a bunch of brown powder into the bowl with the soda-thing and the plant-thing. 

Dark Shadow has no idea what’s in that powder, but it makes the not-bread taste _ magical, _so he trills happily.

His host rolls his eyes, then goes to the cold-box and pulls out a yellow-fat-stick, taking a super sharp thing - what did he call it? That’s right, a ‘knife’ - from beside it on the way back to the bowl. He’s still chanting under his breath in that weird not-Japanese-not-Shadow-speak, but he kind of always does that when he’s wearing his not-earmuffs so Dark Shadow doesn’t really pay attention. It’s hard enough for him to learn Japanese, much less some weird language that sounds dead.

Suddenly his host breathes in sharply, and Dark Shadow watches as some of his red internal fluid drips down his weird-not-finger into the bowl. _ “Shit,” _ his host hisses, like he’s some kind of cat.

Dark Shadow is offended. They’re _ birds. _

His host shoots him a side look. “Don’t repeat that word,” he says, and he really should know by now that that just makes Dark Shadow want to repeat it at the earliest opportunity. Preferably in front of one of the teachers.

His host gives him the angry eyes, then sticks his not-finger through water until the red is all gone. He says something else in that weird not-Japanese-not-Shadow-speak and it sounds kind of like another curse.

Wow. His host really seems to hate red.

His host goes back to making the not-bread. He takes out the bad sounding machine thing he uses to mix up the plant-thing and brown-thing and soda-thing and the yellow-fat-stick and the unborn and he turns it on. Dark Shadow watches as the red body fluid mixes into the rest of the pre-not-bread. It’s kind of weird, how quickly it disappears and turns dark brown.

Dark Shadow pauses. Something’s not right, he thinks.

And then -

Wait.

_ Cake_.

That’s the word for the sweet not-bread.

“Want cake?” he asks the not-person who’d just appeared in the eating room, looking incredibly confused. 

They’re tall, lanky, like a stretched-out rubber band. They’re taller than Dark Shadow’s host - more like loud-teacher than anything, except that their hair is red and not big and fruit-shaped and also they look like they’re wearing Dark Shadow’s host’s clothes.

Clearly they aren’t, though, since they’re probably a good...thirty centipedes-ish (?) taller than Dark Shadow’s host and their clothes aren’t all stretched out or too short like the blue-fire-bad-guy’s. They’re also wearing sunglasses indoors, like they’re some kind of rock star or something.

...They’re too skinny.

Therefore, they need cake.

That’s just how the world works - Dark Shadow doesn’t make the rules.

Oh, yeah.

Also.

They’re a demon.

And one who’s pretty famous in the lower circles, at that.

“Oh, we’re in Japan, are we?” Crowley asks, their Japanese tinged with just the faintest hint of...Scottish? Maybe? Dark Shadow doesn’t actually know enough about humans to identify it properly.

Also, he doesn’t actually care.

Dark Shadow just kind of nods his head. He gestures at the cake again. “Want cake?” he repeats, still in Japanese, because his host would probably notice if he started speaking Shadow speak. His voice gets all rumbly and staticky and apparently it hurts his host’s sound-holes…?

Dark Shadow thinks Japanese isn’t that much better.

Crowley just sort of shrugs. “Sure, why not.” 

They sit down at the table and watch as Dark Shadow sneaks the knife from the sink and cuts a piece of the cake on the metal rack, then puts it on a - um, a - right, a _ plate _and hands it to Crowley.

“So how did the kid summon me?” Crowley asks, twirling a small eating-pitchfork that had appeared out of thin air between their fingers. They take a bite and make a face, furry-face-caterpillars rising. Dark Shadow’s _ pretty _ sure that’s good.

Dark Shadow would shrug if he had clearly defined shoulders, and he tries anyway, but he doesn’t think it really works. “Mixing unborn, red-inner-fluid, plant-things,” he explains. “Almost-music maybe Old Speech.” He’s nervous, which means that his speech comes out more broken than normal.

Crowley stares at him blankly. Dark Shadow can tell, even though he can’t see their eyes behind their sunglasses. “He summoned me because he cut himself while baking a cake and singing along to Death Metal.”

Dark Shadows nods, a little sheepishly.

“Huh. That’s a new one.”

...Luckily, Crowley doesn’t seem too mad. 

Good. That means Dark Shadow’s host - and, by extension, Dark Shadow - gets to live another day.

Crowley chews slowly on their last bite of cake. Dark Shadow is _ sure _ that, like, five blinks ago they’d had a whole slice. “This is pretty good, actually. Haven’t had anything home-made in a while.”

They eye the rest of the cake. 

“Mind if I take a few slices to go?”

Dark Shadow just pushes the rest of it towards them. He’s not getting in between a demon of Crowley’s caliber and their cake.

“Thanks,” Crowley says, then they snap their fingers and both they and the cake disappear.

Dark Shadow stares blankly at the space where they’d just been.

...He’s never telling his host that he accidentally summoned a demon by_ baking a cake. _

**Author's Note:**

> ...i have no idea
> 
> (psst, check out my other bnha stuff)
> 
> title from Nightmare (Halsey)


End file.
